


The Swarm

by Iamnamedsilence



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Gen, Identity, Mentioned Cannibalism, canon is somewhere, identity developement, most of characters here are only mentioned, only not, parenting, parenting level: Whirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamnamedsilence/pseuds/Iamnamedsilence
Summary: Something entirely new was growing in the Lost Light’s lab: and it loved Whirl deeply.





	1. Pest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gokuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gokuma/gifts), [Harpijka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpijka/gifts), [autumnramble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnramble/gifts).



They learned how to make sounds.

Not that they had been silent before, but now they tried to synchronize the usual noise into something structured: something more and more resembling Cybertronian speech pattern. In the end they were able to form their first word.

It was:

‘Parent’

Whirl wasn’t prepared. The creature – swarm of creatures – seemed to have some affinity for him and he was already kind of proud of them and their achievements, but being called that was above his expectations and imagination.

He stared at the being that, on top of everything, once more took shape of a protoform. A single optic blinked at him in what other mech could see as hope. Whirl knew it would be foolish to attribute such feelings to a combined swarm of scraplets.

He lowered his head towards the creatures.

‘What are you up to this time, eh?’ he asked.

‘Parent’ scraplets answered.

‘Yeah, right. Shouldn’t you be locked up or something?’ he asked.

The scraplets however insisted. They grabbed his leg with clawed “hands” and nuzzled – nuzzled! - their “head” against the plates.

‘Parent’ they said one more time.

Each time the pronunciation was closer to perfect and Whirl had no doubt the creatures really mean it.

He felt discomfort arising.

‘All right, I see. Now shoo, go eat someone.’ he said.

The scraplets clung at his leg as if it was him they intended to consume – although if that was their intention, he would have already felt millions of microscopic teeth gnawing on his inner mechanisms.

He was more disoriented than scared (as any other mech would be) and when Nautica and Velocity appeared running he just looked at them and shrugged.

‘I didn’t let them out,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Velocity answered. ‘They had somehow broke out. Thanks Primus they hadn’t kill anyone… yet.’

‘Good that you have them,’ Nautica added. ‘Now it will be easier to take them back into the lab.’

The false protoform turned their eye towards two other mechs, blinked several times and clutched Whirl’s leg so hard, he felt the claws skratching the metal.

‘I… think they don’t want to go’ he said, surprised by the feeling that suddenly filled his spark and brain. The little pest liked him and thought of them being locked away again was unpleasant.

Left on their own, they would consume all the crew in no time. And although Whirl wouldn’t mind some of the mechs eaten, he would prefer others spared… and himself out of suspicion.

He sighed and gently picked the “protoform” up. They curled on the joint of his arm.

‘Parent’ they said, this time their voice sounding like it belonged to a single being and not a buzzing swarm.

‘Come on, pest,’ Whirl said. ‘Back to the lab we go.’

***

The swarm didn’t change their appearance. Locked behind reinforced walls and glass they still kept the shape of a developing protoform, with a single optic in place of a face, a pair of claws and short legs. All the mechs who saw that agreed it was disturbing, especially since the “sparkling” usually kept sitting apathetically in the corner of the lab and moved only when Whirl came to visit. They run to the glass then, pressing the claws to it, looking at the helicopter and humming:

‘Parent, parent, parent!’

This was even more disturbing, everyone agreed. It felt like imprisoning a real Cybertronian sparkling and the knowledge of the being’s real nature wasn’t helpful. Tailgate outright stated it hurts him seeing the swarm like this. Given his own experiences with being trapped, no one considered it odd. There were, of course, many others on board, who at one or another point of their lives experienced imprisonment. They didn’t make statement, but were uneasy. After initial frequent visits to the lab to see the change in the swarm’s behaviour, they stopped coming by, officially claiming they were bored or just afraid of scraplets.

In the end only five mechs visited regularly: Nautica, Velocity and Brainstorm, who decided that it’s an excellent opportunity for further study of the swarm’s unusual behaviour. Cyclonus who hadn’t admit it, but decided it’s his time to support Whirl, and, naturally, Whirl himself. He just sat in front of the glass, looking at the swarm running towards him and making happy noises. Sometimes, when he was alone in the lab, he pressed one of his claws to the glass and looked at scraplets doing the same.

The little pest would be happier outside. He would be happier, if they were outside. They missed him. Their humming and chirping was getting sad as he was leaving the lab, and when he wasn’t there, they just sat in the corner, sad and alone.

He would never expect such simple lifeforms as scraplets to develop feelings of „sadness”, „loneliness” or „attachment”.

‘We discussed it’ Nautica explained to him. ‘A single scraplet is a very simple lifeform indeed, but they have proven before that combined they are able not only to take a form of a more complicated being, but as we had seen – to understand things. We have records of many simple lifeforms, both mechanical and organic, that can work together as if they possessed higher cognitive functions. For example, there is this species on Earth called “ants” that...’

Whirl was not interested in organic insectoids. He waved his hand. On the other side, the swarm did the same, and then they pressed both claws to the glass.

‘Parent’ they said. ‘Whirl.’

Whirl blinked.

‘Did… did you hear that?’ he asked.

Nautica nodded.

Brainstorm left the console he used for some kind of calculations and also came closer, with his optics flaring bright from curiosity.

‘They said my name!’ Whirl exclaimed proudly. ‘Oh, little pest, I’d hug you now if I could!’

‘Whirl,’ the swarm chirped happily. ‘Parent. Whirl.’

‘They are expanding their language abilities,’ Brainstorm said. ‘I’m impressed. This is more than we expected.’

‘Whirl’ the swarm continued. ‘Whirl. Eat.’

‘They want to eat him?’ Nautica asked.

‘Of course not!’ Whirl snickered. ‘They are asking me to feed them. Wait a minute...’ he looked at the both other mechs present. ‘What do they eat when there aren’t any Cybertronians around?’

‘We feed them a blend of shredded metals,’ Brainstorm explained. ‘Scraps from devices, peeled off plating.”

‘They must be hungry.’

‘Of course they are’ Brainstorm said calmly. ‘This is not their preferred diet. Scraplets can live on dead metal, but during prolonged shortage of sentio metalico they usually hibernate. In fact, I’m surprised, that the swarm here isn’t hibernating yet.’

‘Or that they didn’t eat anyone during their breakout,’ Nautica added.

‘They totally should,’ Whirl said. ‘Let’s feed someone to them, seriously. We can’t keep them like this.’

‘You can’t feed mechs to the scraplets, Whirl!’ Nautica protested.

Whirl, who had been doing some thinking before and had – in his head – a list of most annoying mechs he wouldn’t mind being eaten, turned his head to look at her.

‘I’m not allowed. It doesn’t mean I can’t. I had done it before. Once.’ He would smile at the memory if he had a mouth. That frag deserved his end entirely. ‘I’d say, let’s find some really nasty ‘cons, that even Megatron hates, and make them food for the pest.’

Brainstorm nodded, but Nautica winced.

‘You know not everyone will approve that?’ she asked.

‘We can cut someone’s arm meanwhile,’ Whirl said. ‘We could also give them Swerve.’

The “sparkling” behind the glass cocked their head.

‘Eat. Whirl. Whirl. Parent. Eat.’ they said with hope.

Whirl calculated. He, surprisingly, was ready to cut his own arm, but he doubted the swarm would eat it. No matter, how he liked the idea of finding a mech no one would regret – he was well aware, that it would end in throwing both him and the scraplets overboard. He shook his head.

‘Not now, pest. Unless...’

He would smile, if he could. He would smile even wider, given Nautica’s concerned and Brainstorm’s curious face.

A certain amount of time later medbay had some spare limbs – leftovers Ratchet and then Velocity gathered over time from various mechs who died or got their parts replaced – less. The swarm gnawed on them so happily, that Whirl thought it was worth it. Even, if he was to be punished for the theft (and Brainstorm and Nautica – for complicity).

The curious thing was, that while they fed, the scraplets didn’t break the form they had taken. As Brainstorm noted, it changed a little – towards a little more mature Cybertronian shape.

By the time the Lost Light reutrned to Cybertron (everything that happened inbetween included), it became obvious that feeding the swarm with spare parts wouldn’t be a good idea. Forcing the scraplets into hibernation was considered. Whirl opposed, so did some other mechs: the swarm used more and more words, learned crewmembers’ names and their shape evolved slowly, but notably. It seemed the scraplets had no intention to leave their current state. They interacted with the mechs, recognized them, seemed to like some and dislike the others (to the latter they showed big, sharp teeth). They were happy with Whirl around, and when the helicopter insisted to go inside the quarantine ward the „sparkling” ran towards him, hugging him, chirping and using most of their vocabulary to express joy. Watching the situation develop was at least fascinating. Forced hibernation was out of question.

In the end Brainstorm came with an idea of enriching the metal blend with energon. This proved to be successful. The swarm, asked if they liked their new food answered enthusiastically enough to believe them… Of course it was Whirl who believed them the most, and by this time he even stopped to think about this. He was attached to the Pest and would do many things to make them happy. The crew slowly got used to the fact and they started to think of the swarm as of, using organics’ terms, Whirl’s child.

Whirl didn’t mind. He spent as much time as possible teaching the Pest new vocabulary, showing them films and pictures that, as it was suggested to him, should help swarm’s developing consciousness and intelligence. Something entirely new was growing in the Lost Light’s lab: and it loved Whirl deeply.


	2. Little Whirlwind

She remembered that she not always was a „she” but the memories were somewhat fuzzy. She didn’t have personality or identity then, not as a singular being at least. She emerged from the collective consciousness of thousands of beings, that alone were not very sentient. Not as sentient as her at last. Yet they decided they want to be her. They chose it. She chose she wanted to be herself.

Her parent called her Pest, but she didn’t use that name anymore. It was discussed and they both were advised to change it.

‘If your child is to live among us, Whirl’ her parent was told ‘Then they need some adjustment.’

‘Her’ she said then, looking the mech who spoke into the optics. This were the first words she said to Optimus Prime. ‘I’m not „them”. I’m a she.’

The Prime looked at her. She blinked at him.’

‘Apologizes for my mistake, Whirl’s child,’ he said. ‘I respect your choice of being a femme as well as your choice of being one of us. I will also respect your choice of a name and I expect, that everyone will respect it too.’

She nodded. It was fun to be a Cybertronian, no matter, that the instincts she inherited after the swarm told her to see mechs as food. She had indeed eaten some of them, some when she was still devoid of identity swarm of scraplets, some later, during the battle fought after Lost Light returned to Cybertron. All of them were threat to the mechs she started to see as her friends – and to Whirl.

This was the only possibility she could eat someone – in her mind there was no difference between that and killing in fight, defending oneself or friends and loved ones. She had seen mechs doing it. She remembered, how merciless her parent’s best friend could be, especially when his conjunx’ life was at stake – and Whirl himself had no scruples when it came to killing. Why should she have them?

For a moment she wondered if the Prime was among „edible” mechs, and decided that he was not. He said he respected her. He didn’t show concern about the swarm that formed her.

‘You need a name,’ he said. ‘And a face.’

‘What’s wrong with my face?’ she asked.

The swarm had molded it after the pattern that was Whirl. Then it was a mean of survival: now a sign of attachment. Later the mouth was added, very practical when she wanted to show mechs her teeth, but the general shape was miniature of Whirl’s.

‘He didn’t tell you why he looks like this?’ the Prime asked.

She turned her optic toward her parent. He withdrew.

It must have been something important, she thought. And Whirl didn’t tell her about. Why?

‘It was four million years ago!’ Whirl protested. ‘No need to go back to this!’

He was distressed. She approached him and clutched his clawed hand with her.

‘What happened?’ she insisted.

‘Before the war certain crimes were punished by removing one’s face and hands.’

It took her a few moments to process what she just heard. She would never thought that the way her parent looked could a punishment. The face, the hands Whirl had and she modeled after him was a way of stigmatization. How? Why?

But the Cybertronians must have consider it something bad. And if so, someone had hurt her parent. It didn’t matter, if he committed any crime or not.

‘Who did it?’ she asked. ‘I’ll eat them!’

She felt Whirl’s claw patting her head.

‘I appreciate that, Pest. But they are already dead.’

‘I want to look like you. If someone will think I did something wrong, I’ll eat them.’

‘Optimus is right, Pest,’ Whirl said reluctantly. ‘If someone sees you, they will ask who practices empurata now. And I don’t want anyone jumping to conclusions we should return to it. Never.’

She nodded. The swarm that formed her moved, she felt scraplets displacing inside her. They were searching for the way to change her shape.

She understood or at least wanted to. Yet she wanted to be recognized as Whirl’s child, to have something that he had.

‘All right,’ she said, her voice distorted by the process of changes. ‘But I’ll have your alt mode. And I want to be named after you.’

***

For other Cybertronians she was known as „Whirlwind”, which was something entirely new in the society – she felt proud. Her parent called her „Pest”, as he had before. She accepted both.  
The world was entirely new for her. The collective consciousness of the swarm perceived it differently, than the being they became. She felt like she was looking at everything through two sets of eyes, two perspectives: that of the scraplets and that of a Cybertronian. Whirl was her first guide, but the others helped her to learn: on the Lost Light and now. She still struggled to grasp the reality of being Cybertronian, but she was hungry for knowledge and experience. Maybe, said Rung once, that was because she subdued the primal hunger and changed it into something more sublime. She didn’t knew. She was still a young thing, with development pattern very different from all mechs – both forged and constructed cold. What someone else could have coded in their spark – or in their body – she created herself.

It was fun. It was great. It was wonderful to be what she was.

She learned about the war and its consequences. Most of it confused her. Sometimes she thought it would be easier to revert to being a swarm of scraplets – but there was no way back.

For Whirl being a parent was equally strange and new as everything else was for his child. Cybertronians rarely took the role of a caretaker on them: there was no need, forged mechs developed too quickly for such a bond to develop. The concept of parenting was not unknown, though extremely rare. It was rather observed among organic species, like humans, and for many Cybertronians it took plenty of time to understand how a human „child” functions and why they are so cared for. Cybertronian version of „parenting” was closer to a mentor-student bond, than to its organic equivalent. But Whirlwind developed differently. She didn’t have programming in a sense any other mech would have. She was closer to a human child in this way. Whirl tried not to think about it. Human children were some kind of larval forms, their fragility and all the chaos, that got unleashed if any of them might get hurt, scared and confused him. For all he knew children were more annoying than Swerve and more naive than Tailgate.

His “child” wasn’t like this. She was smart, curious, mischievous and dangerous. He was proud of her achievements and enjoyed watching her.

She was also persistive, had her own opinions and ideas Whirl would never had in her place.

Like the one she come up with about a meta-cycle after they returned to Cybertron.

She came to Whirl and she looked so excited, that the first thing he thought was that he is going to be responsible for some eaten mechs. But this was not the case and his child had something else in mind.

‘I’ve just heard about something fascinating,’ she said, her optics glowing. ‘And I have to go, I need to go!’

Whirl looked at her from over his another attempt to build a decent watch. He got opportunity of returning to doing what he loved most and struggled against the conviction he would never regain his old skills. Rung helped. A little. What helped more was the need to do something meaningful with the life he – to his utter surprise – still had. His friends – yes, he was astonished by the fact he had them as much as by the fact he was still alive – supported him too. And then there was Pest…

‘Hey, just calm down for a moment, would you?’ he asked in vain. She was a very energetic little Whirlwind at the moment.

‘The Prime announced recruitment to the Rescue Bots Program’ she chirped. ‘I want to do it!’

‘You just wait a klik. What program?’

‘It’s a training program for unexperienced mechs. On Earth. The Prime wants to rebuilt diplomatic relationship or how it is called. With humans. And he wants us to learn to work together and with the other species. And there was something about cultural exchange.’ she explained. ‘I am unexperienced! I want to go! I want to see Earth!’

Whirl blinked.

‘Why Earth, Pest?’ he asked.

‘I’ve never seen an organic planet.’

‘Earth is horrible,’ he snickered. ‘Plants everywhere. Humans. Dirt. Almost no metal. Everything is ugly. Lots and lots of water. Falling from the sky. Isn’t water toxic for scraplets?’

She frowned.

‘I… don’t know. Maybe? I’ll ask Nautica. I want to go, parent! It’s exciting!’

Whirl sighed. The Pest would do it anyway, she took it from him. The only chance that she would drop her attempts would be proof that Earth is deadly to the species she originated from – but even then Whirl suspected his child would find her way.

And, he might have been her parent and she might have been more like organic offspring than like a young mech she pretended to be, but at the same time he was an ex-wrecker, regarded as a trigger happy psycho, she on the other hand was in fact a swarm of deadly parasites. Would it be right then to forbid Pest anything? She was her own person.

She was under his protection and care. And he cared, Primus damn it.

There were just too many things that could go wrong: water, presumed deadly for scraplets, other mechs involved in this ridiculous program, who could start asking questions about Pest and her unusual diet, the humans, Whirlwind’s temperament and possible accidents that could result in consumed mechs… That was too much.

And he would miss her terribly.

***

Whirlwind spent the next few meta-cycles on Earth. Whirl was worried. He never told that anybody, although Cyclonus must have suspected, the old „not-a-’con” knowing Whirl too well – frag, he even told Whirl to came if he ever needed help “coping with separation”. When did Rung manage to teach him such vocabulary? Whirl muttered something inaudible, but deep inside his spark he felt satisfaction: Cyclonus felt obliged for all the times Whirl had told him uncomfortable truths.

Not that Whirl expected or wanted to hear uncomfortable truths from his friend, but this was reassuring.

More reassuring were messages regularly coming from his child:

“Parent, Earth is weird. Water is strange, unpleasant, but the upgrade from Brainstorm works. Team seems nice. Bumblebee is our supervisor. He said I should be careful. Humans are hard to spot among all those organic things around. What do you do with all this dirt?”

“Team is ok, but they are asking questions. I feel urge to eat them. Can I eat them? I know I can’t but I want to.”

“Made human friends today! My training went good. I saved the day and I saved humans! All I had to do was to bite through some steel. Was kinda tasty. Humans were happy.”

“My team looks worried. Afraid. They are afraid of me. No decent mech eats metal, they say. I told them I am a decent mech and that the Prime approved me. ‘Bee tried to talk to them. They don’t listen. I’m unhappy. I want to eat them.”

“Left the compound to spend a day with humans. They like me here. I saved them. Some of them were young. The larvae. Human sparklings. They are weird. They said I was a bit like them, asked weird questions. Asked what I was. How should I explain? They are nice though. Told them about you. Showed this watch I took from your workshop (yup this was me!). They liked it. I’m staying with humans and mechs can frag off.”

“Sorry I didn’t message you earlier. Problems. Stayed with humans. Turned communications off. Not much to eat, except for scrap, hehe. Low quality metals, I got hungry. ‘Bee come looking for me: I ate his hand. Just kidding. But he came. He was worried, said you were worried too. Were you worried, Parent? I didn’t want to make you worried. I got back to the compound, got my share of the blend. Others were looking. I told them what I am. They don’t believe me. I wish some nasty mechs came so I could save my frie… my team, they are not my friends. No bad mechs in vicinity.’

“My team came. I showed them teeth. They didn’t go away. Started asking questions again, but they said they heard I was eating only bad mechs. So I told them of those I ate. They said they still want me on the team and stuff and that I am a good mech. That was what they said: I am a good mech. I’m happy now. Can I be happy? I am.”

“Humans came, asked if I can get them one more watch from you and that it was great. It was too big for a watch for humans, but can be a regular clock, I guess? Hey, maybe you could sell some to earth? Would be good for cultural exchange.”

“I’m good here. Love you, Parent!”

That was all Whirl could ever wish for.

**Author's Note:**

> A friend told me there was a female mech named Whirl in the Rescue Bots cartoon and that the fandom already speculates she is "right" Whirl's daughter. I asked, if this mean that the scraplets evolved. So, yes, this happened.


End file.
